Rebels & Lies (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 1)

by Cotton, Brian

  Kaspar took a mouthful of the water and swished it around in his mouth, swished it around in his mouth, and then spit out what remained of the vomit. He took another mouthful and swallowed. He felt the cold liquid run down his throat. It was now or never time. He took one last handful of water and rubbed it into his buzzed sandy blonde hair. Kaspar turned off the faucet and looked at his own expression in the mirror.

  He thought about what must be done tonight, that strategy that he and Danny had gone over endlessly. The fight would all be over in a matter of minutes—maybe even seconds. No time to be nervous now. There was only time for getting his head in the game. His expression turned stone cold.

  “You ready now?” Danny asked.

  “You don’t even know.”

  ***

  Steam rose from the spaghetti and tempted Kaspar as he went in for another mouthful. He spun his fork around the limp noodles in organic tomato sauce. His front teeth cleared the fork of its tasty contents. He chewed as he looked across the table at his mother. Jenna Kaspar had not taken a single bite. She kept a blank stare at her plate. She looked up and gave that same look to her son. It was like she was looking at him for the last time.

  Kaspar dropped his fork into his plate. “What’s wrong?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You haven’t said a word. Haven’t even taken a bite.”

  “What do you think is wrong, dear?”

  Kaspar paused. He reached down for his fork and shoved another mouthful in and swallowed. Never before did the pre-fight ritual feel so awkward. He knew now that he should have never disclosed Razor to her. Kaspar cursed himself and his unwillingness to keep things from Mother. She continued to stare back at him.

  “Don’t ignore me, son.” Mother said.

  “I know what’s bothering you.”

  “Then, why did you ask?”

  Another forkful. Mother remained expressionless.

  “I don’t know. I’ve just never seen you like this before.” Kaspar replied.

  Mother’s expressionless face changed. A single tear rolled down her right cheek. He felt nothing but guilt at the sight of it. For the first time ever, he considered walking away, to be done with it, to take her advice and get a real job to occupy his time with.

  A real job? What was that anyway? Be like the slaves who worked for the Crimson Corporation? Those people who were beaten by their slave master’s whips—their impossible deadlines and low wages—and took it all in with a smile and a sense of entitlement? Be like that kid at the diner who was forced to skip school so he could support his family? Or, how about that pimply faced guy at the lobby desk of the apartment building, who found a way around the government health regulations and still became obese?

  No. Kaspar had to fight Razor so he could win that prize.

  “I do not want you to go!” Mother cried out.

  A single, warm tear could be felt running down Kaspar’s own cheek. He hated to see her like this. He hated having to put her through this before any fight, but this one was different. There was a legitimate chance he was not coming home.

  “I have to.” Kaspar cried.

  “You keep saying that, but you do not. You do not have to if you change your mind.”

  “You don’t understand. This fight…this prize…will feed us for weeks if I can win.”

  “If you can win?”

  “I can go out. I promise you that I will go out and find work after this fight.”

  “Promise me,” Mother said in between short breaths, “that you will not fight tonight.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Then, at least promise me you will come back and that you will never fight again.”

  Kaspar shook his head. Why did he have to go through this? All week, he tried to not think about the consequences of entering the ring with Razor. Mother, she seemed to only be interested in the negative: that Razor outmatched, outweighed, and most of all outclassed her son.

  “Listen, don’t you worry about me.” Kaspar said.

  “How can you ask me to do that?”

  “Because, I won’t lose, I never have.”

  “Your ego is going to get you killed.” Mother replied.

  “What would you have me do?”

  “Go out there and find something for yourself. Something, I do not know, meaningful? I hate to see you waste your youth in a boxing gym.”

  “I’m feeding us and paying the rent. How is that meaningless?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “So, what then?” Kaspar demanded.

  “You need to find someone special…” Mother started to say.

  “Now, there is the best advice I’ve gotten all day. Yeah, just shack up with some woman, get her pregnant, and then leave her ass to raise the kid alone?”

  Mother slammed her fist on the table. “Goddamn it, Ryan, you are not your father!”

  “Damn right I’m not.”

  “And, you know something? You just need to get over your hatred. You don’t know what the times were like back then, do you? You weren’t around for the Purge, were you? You were lucky.”

  Kaspar smirked. Mother had struck a nerve. “He’s my father, he could at least have checked in from time to time. Checked in on me.”

  “You weren’t the only lucky one.” Mother said with moist eyes. “I was lucky that I could find a doctor to deliver you without reporting it. Sure, he left us, but it was not like he didn’t have a reason.”

  More excuses. Kaspar hated that about Mother. She was always the first one to make an excuse. He didn’t know what his father looked like, didn’t even know his name, but at least father got the benefit of the excuse. Sure, he must have been scared for his life, but he should have been there for his family. Not run off like a coward.

  He stood up from his seated position and walked over to the garbage can. He scraped off the remains of his half eaten dinner. He could not stomach another bite with his appetite long gone. Kaspar walked his plate over to the sink and placed it inside. One last look at Mother, who continued to weep, and the guilt clouded him once more.

  “Please,” Mother cried, “come back to me in one piece.”

  “I will.” Kaspar said. He hoped it wasn’t a promise he couldn’t keep.

  Three

  If there was anything in this world worse than waiting, Kaspar didn’t know it. Thoughts of his dinner, perhaps his final meal, with Mother kept spiraling around in his head. Focus on the fight was of the utmost, and here he stood, thinking about anything but. Outside the red curtain in front of him lay the arena that the leaders of the illicit boxing league built. It only had five rows of wooden benches stacked on top of one another, but with the hundreds of citizens who crowded each other every fight night, it felt like a coliseum. Danny said it reminded him of old Madison Square Garden, whatever the hell that was.

  There was a different buzz in the air for this fight, however. The combatants would be Kaspar, unbeaten in twenty-seven bouts. He would fight Razor, unbeaten in fifty, with nine kills, the heavy favorite for this fight. The negative thoughts were erased from his mind. There was nothing but a deep feeling of anticipation now. His heart rate increased, the adrenaline flowed through his veins, and Kaspar fed off of it. Despite all the positive energy he accumulated time seemed to just inch its way along.

  Come on, just announce the fighters and let’s be done with it.

  The roar of the crowd outside told Kaspar that the official for the fight had entered the ring and it was about damned time, too.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen,” Kaspar heard from the other side of the curtain. “Tonight is a special night. Two undefeated fighters will collide in this ring. We ask that nobody enter the ring at any time, nobody throw anything into the ring, and that you all enjoy tonight’s fight. For those attending for the first time, the rules are simple. This is bare knuckle boxing at its very best. The only way to win is by knockout. Are you ready?”

  The roar of the crowd gave the official his an
swer.

  “Introducing first, a man with twenty-seven wins and no defeats, a man that we have all grown to love for his tenacity and fighting spirit. He stands six foot two, weighs in at two hundred fifteen pounds—RYAN KASPAR!”

  As soon as he stepped foot outside the curtain, the once loving crowd cried out in boos. Kaspar would fight their hero tonight, and no matter how much they cheered him on in previous bouts, tonight he would be public enemy number one. The crowd of men and a few women (who dared not step in the ring with him) shouted obscenities.

  He didn’t care what they said about him, but Kaspar heard someone shout something about his bitch mother, and he almost lost it. He turned and looked into the crowd, trying with desperation to find that son of a bitch and beat the shit out of him. He felt Danny’s hands on his back and continued his walk forward.

  Danny pulled the cheap blue ropes up and Kaspar bent down to enter. His feet met the white mat which did little in the way of cushioning the fighters from the solid concrete underneath. Blood spatter from previous fights stained the ground. There was one red blotch on the mat that Kaspar always looked at. It reminded him of that first knockout when the blood from his opponents mouth spilled everywhere. He walked over to his corner and peeled off his moist black shirt. He stood in his black shorts while Danny wrapped white tape around the knuckles on his fists.

  “Remember,” Danny said as he taped, “this guy is going to come in hard, looking for the kill early. Just survive that initial burst and he’ll be worn out.”

  Kaspar nodded his head. He liked how his trainer put it: survive. Survival was something foreign to him. Most nights his opponents were like that desperate man Razor killed. They lacked size, but they made up for it by lacking any kind of fighting ability. He estimated that just under half were even a remote challenge. It always amazed him the rumors, most perpetrated by Danny, which centered on his fights. He was taking the form of some kind of legend if they were to be believed. Now, during this fight, he would have to learn how to survive on the fly.

  The once rowdy crowd grew quiet with anticipation. Kaspar started to rub his right fist into his left hand. Their hero was about to be introduced into the ring: the man that they all hoped would beat the underdog into bloody submission. A strange feeling hit Kaspar as he stared down that red curtain in the back corner. His body started to tremble. He did not know if it came from adrenaline or fear. It was probably a mixture of both.

  “And, now,” the official shouted to the crowd. “Your champion, with a record fifty wins without a defeat. Standing six feet four inches tall, weighing in at two hundred ninety-five pounds—RAZOR!”

  Razor, with his jet black Mohawk and thick black chest hair, ran through the curtain so hard he almost ripped it down. The crowd roared to life in awe. Once he reached the entrance to the ring, he ducked and slid underneath the bottom rope. Kaspar put up his guard. Razor came charging in at him.

  The official tried to get in between them so the fighters could touch fists, but Razor shoved him to ground. Before Kaspar knew it, the behemoth was in his face with a murderous look in his eyes.

  Kaspar raised his arms up in defense. Somebody on the outside rang the bell. Razor threw a flurry of lefts then rights in quick succession. Kaspar managed to block most of them, only three or four shots landed. With the sheer amount of adrenaline flowing in his veins, the hard hits felt like love taps.

  A shot snuck up on Kaspar and landed in his left rib cage. Razor was starting to change tactics. He moved his arms down and blocked another shot to the ribs, but left himself exposed to a shot to his right eye. He kept from falling somehow and moved his body backward. Razor continued his flurry of punches.

  “Get outta there!” Danny screamed.

  Kaspar moved left. Razor came in hard with another quick flurry of lefts and rights. Arms protecting his face, Kaspar moved his body from left to right in anticipation of the blows. Kaspar tried to remain composed. He kept telling himself that his opponent couldn’t keep up this pace. Just survive. Like Danny said: just survive.

  “I’m gonna fuck you up!” Razor shouted.

  Razor backed away from his assault and raised his right fist. He taunted Kaspar with a motion to come get some more. The crowd roared, but Kaspar knew that this was only a ploy on his opponent’s end to catch his breath and play to the crowd.

  He wasn’t worn out, yet, just be patient…

  Out of nowhere, a right hook connected to the right side of his face. Kaspar’s head snapped in that direction. His neck was the only thing that kept his head from flying into the crowd. His entire body went stiff like a dead man’s and the left side of his body hit the hard concrete.

  1…2…3…

  “Get up!” Danny shouted.

  He could see a vision of Mother sitting on a street corner. She had an empty, rusted canister in her right hand and she begged for loose change. Nobody gave her any.

  4…5…6…

  Kaspar sat next to her, an empty can in his hand as well. Impaled, unable to work, he should have listened to her all along.

  “GET UP!!!” Danny cried once more.

  7…8…

  He started to come back to his senses. The shouts of the crowd were audible once more. Kaspar was back on his feet just before the ten count. The official moved in front of him to check his vital signs. The official stared with amazement that the fighter hadn’t toppled back over, yet. Everything seemed to spin. Kaspar felt no strength in his legs, yet he still stood…

  Razor shoved the official out of the way. He went in for the killing blow. Kaspar managed to raise his right forearm in time. The block followed up by a hard right hook to Razor’s face. The visions while he was on the mat created a new found vigor deep inside.

  The monster was stunned. Nobody ever fought back against him. The underdog followed with a left hook. Razor raised his arms in defense, but was hit by a left and a right to the torso. Kaspar rose up and hit his enemy with two shots with his right, then one with the left. The crowd went into a stunned silence.

  The behemoth backed away and rubbed at his cheeks. Kaspar stayed back and remained cautious. Razor no longer played to the crowd. Instead there was nothing but an intense focus in his eyes. The sleeping giant had been woken up.

  Razor approached with caution. Kaspar raised his arms in defense.

  “Your father,” Razor said in between breaths, “must have been a real bitch to have a son like you.”

  Something inside snapped. Kaspar looked to his opponent, who looked back with a grin on his ugly face. The pain in his eye and body went away. He no longer felt woozy from the knockdown. He could feel his face burn red with anger. Razor just smiled and went in with a finishing hook. Kaspar ducked underneath it and hooked his opponent’s throat. He used his right leg and swept Razor’s feet from underneath him.

  Both men crashed to the mat. Kaspar landed on top. He started to swing at the monster’s face below him. Right, left, right, left. He landed blow after blow until he could feel the official’s hand rest against his shoulder, but he didn’t stop. Father would be ashamed to have left his son. What did this fat son of a bitch know about family, anyway? When he came to, Razor spit out three blood stained teeth. Kaspar’s eyes went wide at the sound of the word disqualified.

  What have I done?

  Kaspar stood and backed away. Two men rushed in to check on the fallen, bloodied mess that lay on the mat. Two pairs of hands grabbed at Kaspar’s shoulders. H turned and saw Danny, who looked shell shocked right back at him. The trainer said nothing and led his fighter out of the ring. The crowd started to throw empty bottles of water and half eaten veggie sandwiches onto the mat.

  Danny kept his grip on him all the way back to the locker room. Once inside, he shoved his fighter forward. Kaspar lowered his head and found a bench to lie down on. He rested his back and head on the hard wood. Danny approached with a red face.

  What have I done?

  Four

  “Just what was that?!” Danny
demanded.

  “I’m sorry.” Kaspar replied.

  “Sorry? That bullshit ain’t gonna pay my rent this month, is it?”

  “I lost control.”

  “Well, we could all see that. Disqualified! Do you know what that means?”

  Kaspar rubbed at his aching cheek bone. “Yes.”

  “Damn it!” Danny shouted. He found a plastic trash can and kicked it across the floor.

  “Relax.” Kaspar said.

  “Don’t tell me to relax.” Danny began his approach. “You just took a beating for nothing. You had him, he was tired, you broke his spirit, and then you pissed it all away.”

  “I snapped, I’m sorry.”

  “Ain’t that just too bad? Let me look at that eye.”

  Kaspar relaxed his body as best he could. Danny knelt down in front of him and touched the eye lightly. It caused a wince. The sharp pain stung like trapping a hornet in one’s hand. Slight pressure was applied; a growl of pain. Danny let go, stood up, and sighed.

  “What’s it looking like?” Kaspar asked.

  “There’s going to be a hell of a lot of swelling, but it doesn’t look like he broke anything.”

  Kaspar breathed in. “What do you think my father would say? I mean, if he saw the fight, if he was here, right now?”

  “‘Damn, son, you look beat the hell up.’”

  “I’m being serious.”

  “Hell, I don’t know, kid. Never met the man.”

  “That makes two of us.” Kaspar replied.

  “Don’t let that man ruin your life.”

  Kaspar laughed. Danny walked over to the cooler in the far right corner and filled a plastic bag full of ice. He walked back over and placed it over his injured fighter’s cheek. Kaspar winced again and closed his eyes.

  “I did beat the shit out of him, though.” Kaspar said.

  “Damn right you did.”

  A sound interrupted the conversation. In walked Howard Walker, the founder of the illicit underground league. The expensive, beige suit that he wore gave away how much money he was making watching these men beat each other to bloody pulps. Kaspar did not bother to open his eyes, but the old man’s gasp gave away who it was, and it prompted another laugh.